


Fusion

by kaige68



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Restaurant, M/M, community: H50_reverse_bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 01:59:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2049078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaige68/pseuds/kaige68
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>It’s possible they both trained with the CIA, just different CIAs.  Which one is better trained when they are cooking for their lives?</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fusion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Antares](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antares/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Bon Appétit](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2043756) by [Antares](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antares/pseuds/Antares). 



> Written for [](http://h50-reversebang.livejournal.com/profile)[**h50_reversebang**](http://h50-reversebang.livejournal.com/) based on the incredible graphic by the incomparable [](http://antares04a.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://antares04a.livejournal.com/)**antares04a** , I did not do the graphic justice. This has been an amazing experience, thank you so much.
> 
>   
>  **Artwork:**   
> [](http://antares04a.livejournal.com/profile)  
>   
> [](http://antares04a.livejournal.com/)  
> **antares04a**  
> [AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2043756)  
>  **Warning:** Canonical death of minor character, canon typical violence, explicit sexual conduct.  
>  Beta kudos to both [](http://haldoor.livejournal.com/profile)[**haldoor**](http://haldoor.livejournal.com/) and [](http://thtwzjustadream.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://thtwzjustadream.livejournal.com/)**thtwzjustadream** who both scrambled to read it through and didn’t flinch at the overwhelming corrections. All remaining errors are due to my own stubbornness.  
>  Huge thanks to both [](http://diek09.livejournal.com/profile)[**diek09**](http://diek09.livejournal.com/) and [](http://ncisvu-lj.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://ncisvu-lj.livejournal.com/)**ncisvu_lj** for their organization and patience.  
>  It should be stated (and very evident from reading) that I know nothing of cooking. I can microwave a hot dog and have become adept at reading directions on frozen food packaging. That is the extent of my kitchen expertise. I also know nothing of actual police procedures. I gleaned things and made a bunch of stuff up. Let's call it fiction, shall we?  
> And be sure to tell [](http://antares04a.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://antares04a.livejournal.com/)**antares04a** how appreciative you are!

**Appetizer**

  


Chapter 1 – Wine

“Look at this! Would you just… Damn!” Danny slammed the newspaper down on the desk in his office that opened onto the kitchen. He deflated into his chair.

“What’d he do this time?” Kono smirked at her boss from the doorway.

“What? No, not _him_! Don't get me started on him. She’s bad enough. I do not need to deal with Mister _He’s not bad for a haole._ Like he’s ever been here! How could he possibly know what my food is...”

Kono cleared her throat to stop him mid-tirade. She knew said tirade by heart already. “She?”

“Jamison.” Danny deflated again.

“They did another spread on her? Twice in a month?” The sous chef leaned forward to read the Arts and Entertainment headline.

“The Governor tapped her for some big charity thing. She apparently _laughs a melodious ‘no’_ when asked about her plans for a menu. I wonder if she giggled her way out of answering where she trained, too?”

“Chef…” The tone was a warning, an attempt to put off one of Danny’s other favorite tirades.

“Do you know where I trained, Kono? Do you?” He pointed a finger at her as he leaned forward.

“Police Academy?”

“Oh, look. I’ve got a comedian as well as a sous chef! Maybe I’ll give you a microphone the next slow Tuesday we have, see if that’ll bring in the crowd, huh? Don’t you have fish out there waiting for you?”

“Yes, chef.” She smiled and went back into the kitchen. It was the chance of a lifetime to get to work with Danny. She was very lucky, she’d learned a lot, and she’d continue to learn more about both people and the kitchen.

She heard him grumbling from where she sorted the delivery; what could go onto _Grace_ ’s tables and what the monger could try to sell to some place with a less discerning eye. Kono caught some of Chef Danny’s continued mutterings; _C I A_ , and _Governor’s pet_ , _two thousand dollars a head_ and _fusion_ were the unmistakable words, and then something that sounded a lot like _loaded gun_.

She’d finished with the fish truck and moved on to the note their pastry chef had left her when the soothing New Jersey accent echoed through the kitchen again.

“I must need glasses! Kono! Get in here and read this to me! I’m telling you it looks like _Prow_ ’s special today is a Pineapple lasagna! He’s trying to kill me, isn’t he? McGarrett does this in the hopes it’ll kill me, doesn’t he?”

Chapter 2 – Bread

She smiled at the array in front of her. The dishes were perfect. She couldn’t have done better if she’d done it herself. Pat Jamison laughed aloud in the empty room at that thought.

Her name had been built on the backs of struggling sous chefs with too much talent and not enough self esteem. But that was her real skill; Honolulu’s elite discerning palates had no idea she knew exactly how to deal with an aspiring chef, knew precisely what to say to pull their best from them and dash their dreams at the same time. Chef Jamison knew when she was faced with drive, and knew better than to let that into her kitchen. She had the brains to steal only from those who would never notice what she’d taken.

She had that gift, but she also had...

Pain! Like she’d never felt before. Sharp in her back. It ripped the breath from her lungs. She hadn’t heard anything in the room before the pain but then there was a soft sucking sound, like a knife being pulled from a raw roast. And pain again. In a new spot near the first one. She was cold, but could feel something warm pouring down her back. The chef clutched at her chest, stumbling forward and folding onto her prep table. She couldn’t inhale, and … more sharp pains. Again and again. Again.

She fell to the floor. It felt wet under her hands. Her brain recognized that the floor shouldn’t be wet.

Her brain should have been recognizing other things.

Like that the wet was her blood pooling around her.

Or the black shoes and slacks just beyond the blood.

And her own knife clattering to the floor.

Well, to be fair. She’d already taken in her last breath, she could probably have forgiven herself for not recognizing the knife she only ever used as a prop.

 

Chapter 3 – Appetizer

“Can I help you?” Kono moved quickly through the dining area. Who had let this guy in? Chef was going to be pissed. Pissed like his ex-wife’s lawyer was on the phone kind of pissed.

“I’m looking for Danny Williams.”

He smiled at her. It was nice, a nice smile, on a nice face, on a nice body. Danny was still going to have a tantrum that Steve McGarrett had just walked into his restaurant, though. “Chef?” It was a wary call at best - she knew Danny was only a few steps behind her.

“Chef! Yes, Chef. Chef Williams to you!” Danny’s finger pointed at tall dark and tattooed. “Especially Chef Williams to you!”

“You recognize me, I’m flattered. And don’t point at me. It’s rude, and I’ll break your finger.”

The man had the audacity to turn a goofy, albeit attractive, smile on Danny.

“You come into my place of business and call me rude? You put coconut in pesto! You’re the one that’s rude!”

“Seriously,” Steve stepped forward, lowered his voice so as not to carry to where Kono stood wide eyed. “Stop pointing your finger or I’ll show you up in front of your pretty assistant.”

Danny poked his finger into the well muscled chest. “Don’t you tell me what to do! You put one finger on me and I’ll...”

Danny’s hand was grabbed quickly, arm twisted behind his back and he found his body bent in half.

“You’ll what? You’ll yell at me? Poke me again? Call in security?”

“Let me go.”

“Are we done?”

“Let me go.”

Steve sighed, loosened his grip and started to step back. That’s when he found a hard fist in his face. He reeled from the impact.

“Now, we’re done.” Danny stormed toward the kitchen. “Kono, put the trash out.”

~*~

“And of course, you follow me back to my office. Is nowhere safe from the likes of you?” Danny closed his laptop and sighed at the intruder.

“The likes of me?” Steve closed the door and took the only other seat in the small room.

“ _Pineapple Lasagna_? You are lower than swine!”

“Dessert pasta shocks your delicate palate? Don’t you think you’re a little sensitive?”

“I’m sensitive?” Danny was incredulous. “I’m sensitive?” He shook his head. He wasn’t going to physically remove the man without calling the cops, so… “Why are you here?”

Steve applied the goofy smile again. “You’re my new partner.” As if that explained it all.

“Why would I ever work with you?” Danny felt like his brain was twitching.

“Because I’m very good at what I do. Some would say that I’m the best.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Have you ever seen my work?”

“Yeah, my ex-wife brought me take-out. I’m all set being partner-free.”

“Did you taste it?” Danny was starting to hate that self assured smile.

“No, I looked at it and fed it to my disposal. But I don’t say things about your food to the public, do I? You, however, have no problem saying things about my food. _Not bad for a haole_? You haven’t been here before today.”

“I got take out.” Steve shrugged.

Danny didn’t budge. There was no take out at _Grace_.

“Fine, but you should know, they misquoted me. I wasn’t talking about your food. They had showed me a picture of you.”

Danny looked to the ceiling and then back to his _guest_. “What did I do to…” He sighed and started again. “Why are you here?”

The smile dropped. “I need your help. You’re going to be my partner for Governor Denning’s charity event.”

“The paper said Jamison was catering.” Danny tapped a finger on the folded newspaper on the corner of his desk.

“Pat Jamison was killed this morning. Stabbed."

“Damn.” Danny looked to the side, his mind defaulting to his police training. “Do they have a suspect?” In retrospect he didn’t know why he was asking that to a glorified line cook, but the man really didn’t have the bearing of someone at home in front of any kind of range but a firing range.

“There were fingerprints on the knife. Suspect is in custody, but it’s all a little neat for Denning. He’s asked me to look into it as well as cook.”

“Which is why you want me.” The pieces fell into place in Danny’s mind, much as he didn’t want them to.

“You had more collars in your file than any other rookie detective when you decided to become a chef. I need you.” Steve spoke without artifice.

Danny had left the force for a reason, he’d found another job he could love that didn’t involve danger or much in the way of criminals. And now someone was trying to suck him back in. “What if I say no?”

“The Governor hand picked me for this task. I get to pick my team, I choose you. You’re mine until this event is over.”

“I’m yours?!”

“Yep.”

“He picked you for this _task_ , and you think you can just pick up anyone on the island to do what you want?"

“You’re on my task force, I’m making you my partner.”

“I have a restaurant to run, which does not involve pineapple, Spam, or you!”

“See, we’re going to make a great team.”

“I don’t think you were trained by the right CIA.”

 

**Main course**

  


Chapter 4 – Vegetable

“You know,” Danny said, sorting through the debris field that was Pat Jamison’s office. “She’s supposedly cooked at some of the most famous restaurants around the world, but I couldn’t find anyone beyond Hawaii who knew her.”

“Her passport doesn’t have her leaving the country for the last six years, and before that it looks like just a single three week trip to Australia, Indonesia, and Singapore.” Steve dropped the blue booklet on the mess that was a desktop. “You looked into her, didn’t you? Before today?”

“Yeah, when I first got here and was looking to open my own place, had finally given myself that… right in my mind, they did a piece on her. Touting her as a _’celebrity chef and a chef celebrity.’_ ” Danny started picking up the papers on the ground in front of the open safe.

“But you had never heard of her so she must have been making it up?” Steve’s eyes bored into his new partner. “She was a friend of my father’s.”

“Did he ever work with her?” Steve didn’t answer, so Danny went on. “That’s my point. I’m not saying I’m the most famous chef in the world. Plenty of people don’t know my name. But I’ve paid my dues, and I have people who will tell you that.” Danny’s hands fluttered while he spoke, papers flailing while he described and searched. “You don’t just burst onto the scene as a chef. You don’t get to call yourself a chef unless you’ve earned it.”

“So then, I’m not a chef to you?” Steve crossed his arms over his chest.

“No.” Danny said quickly, but then looked at his _partner_ and realized that he’d insulted the man. “You’re a cook. You’ve said that yourself. You learned watching your family. Some of the best restaurants I’ve ever eaten at were run the same way. But you’re not a chef. You run a good place with customers who will wait in line for your food.I don’t understand why, but taste is subjective like that.”

“But I’m not a chef?”

Danny sighed. “Look, when you signed up for the army, did they hand you a brigadier Generalship on the spot?”

“Lieutenant Commander in the _Navy_ ,” Steve stressed. “and no. They didn’t.”

“Right. You learn, train, work your way up. I know how to use a gun, doesn’t mean I get to go be a Green Beret.”

Steve snorted and rolled his eyes. Danny knew what the next two words would be before Steve spoke them. “Navy SEAL.”

“You know how to cook. You take pleasure in putting a good meal in front of your customers, and I’ve never seen where you’ve referred to yourself as a chef.” Danny stood and threw the stack of papers on the floor. “Pat Jamison never said anything about herself except that.”

Steve met Danny’s eyes, nodded with an _okay then_ attitude.

“Do you know what a chef keeps in their safe?” Danny leaned onto the desk.

“Recipes?”

“Only if they have bad memories. Maybe ideas that they want to work out later. They don’t keep utility bills, and diet journals.”

“The safe was open and empty.” Steve gestured. “We don’t know what was in it. They could have taken her recipes.”

“Then why did they leave that on the wall?” Danny pointed to the cork board behind Steve. “That’s the menu for the fundraiser. And I’ve never heard about her roasted boar slaw before.”

“So then what was in the safe?”

“Or what does someone want to distract the police from, by making them think something was in the safe?” Danny skirted the desk, unpinning the index cards and pocketing them.

~*~

“Did you get any sleep?” Steve asked when Danny picked him up in front of _Prow_ the next morning. He got back out of the car as quickly as he’d gotten in to it, walking around the car he gestured for Danny to get out. “Come on, I’m driving.”

“It’s my car!” Danny complained as he fought to keep the driver’s door closed.

“And I’m not crazy enough to ride around with you sleep deprived, plus, you don’t know where we’re going.”

Steve won the tug of war.

“I’d know if you told me.”

Danny got out, but he mumbled as he walked around to the passenger’s side of the Camaro.

“So why no sleep?” Steve asked once they were underway.

“I was trying to get _Grace_ set up for the week. As much as possible.”

“You hired Chin Ho Kelly, didn’t you?”

Danny immediately got defensive. “Yes. I did.”

“He worked with my father while he was in culinary school. Dad liked to say that he corrected a lot of the things they were teaching Chin.” Steve smiled at the memory. “A couple of years ago they said he stole some recipies.”

“That was the first thing out of his mouth when I interviewed him.”

“And you hired him anyway?”

“Obviously.” Danny said it slowly, as if Steve was having a difficult time understanding. “I asked him if he did it, he said no, I hired him.”

“He runs your floor?”

“He didn’t want to be in the kitchen. I guess it jaded him. What is your point, McGarrett?”

“You’re a good guy, chef. My dad never believed he did it either, but Chin wouldn’t come back to work for him.”

“He doesn’t like favors.” Which if Steve knew Chin, he’d know. “He does a great job managing the floor, he does my marketing, and he brought me his cousin. One of the best sous chefs I’ve ever seen.”

“Better than you?” Steve barked a laugh.

“Better than I was at her stage.”

“So then what do they need you staying up all night to help them with?”

“I don’t know if you understand how a real restaurant works, but there is a lot to do and they both have a lot of responsibility. I can’t take off for five days to go detective catering then expect them to pick up all the slack. I did some inventory, ordering, and menu planning. A little less on their plate while they are covering for me.”

“Plus it’s your name on the place so you can’t just let someone else figure things out, even if you think they’re capable. Can you?” Steve’s smirk was going to make Danny crazy.

“You going to tell me you’re not a control freak? That you didn’t call your staff in early so that you could go over every minute detail for the day? You won’t even let me drive my car to … Where the hell are we?”

“I had a supplier mention this place to me the other day. Thought we could give it a shot.” Steve turned off the car and skipped over Danny’s take on his control issues.

“Am I gonna need a tetanus shot when we leave?” But Danny followed Steve into the diner.

It was clean and neat inside. You could see the cooks, and the woman at the counter had a genuine smile, not a plastered customer service politeness. Danny took a seat at the counter next to Steve.

When the waitress asked what she could get them Steve spoke quickly, before Danny even had a menu in hand. “I hear you’ve got a pulled native pork that’s great.”

“You won’t find one better.” She smiled at Steve’s wink.

“Can we get two, on some white toast? With lots of butter?”

She quirked an eyebrow, but nodded. She yelled the order into the kitchen and brought the waters Danny asked for.

They didn’t speak until Danny saw their order placed in the kitchen window. “Sonofa-” Steve had found something. Sitting on the plates was a diner version of Jamison’s roasted boar slaw on brioche.

“My paper goods guy was talking about it last week. He was talking about the cabbage, mango and...”

“Diakon.” Danny supplied.

“Yeah, and if she’s lied about her resume, like you think, what else has she appropriated?”

“And the poor kid in the kitchen who came up with it probably thinks he blew his big chance working for her.” Danny smiled as the plate arrived in front of him. “Looks great, thanks. This the owners family recipe?”

“Nah, Tyler is our night cook. It’s his. You’re gonna love it.”

Danny watched Steve load up his fork, did the same himself and then sighed when the flavor hit his tongue. Before his next bite , he pulled a paper from his pocket, pushed it across the counter to Steve. “Yesterday , I wouldn’t have thought it was possible to hate Pat Jamison more than you. And now…” Danny let the thought drop.

Steve laughed around his lunch. “What’s this?” He unfolded the paper and read through it while eating. “It’s not bad.” He said about Danny’s proposed function menu.

“It’s outstanding. Would it kill you to give a compliment? I said you did good with finding this place.”

“No you didn’t.”

“I didn’t argue with you.”

“And that’s my compliment?”

Danny just leveled a look at Steve and took another bite.

“It’s a lot of local food, local produce.” Steve sounded confused.

“It’s a charity to preserve local landmarks. We can’t feed them New England Clam Chowder.” Danny pointed at a space on the menu. “You come up with a bread, preferably something unleavened. “

“I like the Antipasto with the local stuff.” Steve nodded, then. “What’s this _CPS_?”

“I’ll make them cheesecake, real New York cheesecake, and we can use that coconut pineapple sauce from your _dessert_ lasagne that people will not shut up about.”

“See? We are going to work great together.” Steve ‘s goofy grin had sauce from the pork dripping through it.

Chapter 5 – Starch

  


Steve stood in the glistening function kitchen of the hotel. “This is like space camp for cooks!” He smiled and ran his fingers across a shiny salamander.

“It’s like a kitchen.” Danny rolled his eyes and looked across the room where Kono and Chin were having an early morning discussion with Steve’s crazy cooks, Kamekona and Max. They needed to familiarize the would-be-team with the room, equipment, and each other.

“Does your kitchen look like this?” Steve asked, moving on to the the next piece of sparkling stainless steel.

“You’ve seen my kitchen. It’s smaller and more crowded. But we also don’t feed several hundred people at one sitting.” Shaking his head, Danny turned toward the kitchen guest that the Governor had insisted on. “Or have a photographer documenting everything.” Danny glared at Steve. “We should have been able to say no to that.”

“You’ve got proprietary chopping skills you don’t want to get out?”

“I hate you so much.”

Steve just smiled and kept walking down the row of food rated metal finishes.

“Hey, boss!” A giant wall of a man called out to Steve. “I been thinkin’ about the menu. What about a Sweet and Spicy Spam and Tofu?”

Danny cringed as he and Steve walked toward the others. Wasn’t Spam the anti-tofu? This function was going to kill him, Danny was certain. He opened his mouth to make sure that Kamekona knew in no uncertain terms that the menu was set and there would be no _Sweet and Spicy Spam and Tofu_ , but Steve beat him to the punch. And much more tactfully.

“Sorry, big guy, we’re already cast in stone. Food’s ordered, menus are being printed.” Steve clapped his assistant on the back and offered. “Maybe try making a sample batch next week, after the function, and we’ll see how it goes. Tell you what,” He winked. “We’ll even get Chef Danny here to come over and taste it.”

Kamekona nodded with an ecstatic smile. “Yeah, bro. Sounds good.”

“What? No. Not that does not sound good.” Danny scrambled. “That sounds the opposite of g-”

A shot rang out through the kitchen.

~*~

Chaos rained down around them with the repeated fire of a gun.

Steve had spun at the first crack of sound, pushing Kamekona around an oven, shoving Max to the floor and whipping out a gun from underneath his untucked t-shirt.

Danny threw himself at Kono almost as fast as Steve had moved. He rolled and jerked Chin’s arm, pulling his dining room manager to the floor as well.

The was a pause, Danny’d counted. The handgun should be empty, _unless he’s got another clip_. Just as he began to pull himself up from the floor, more gunfire rang out. Short burst of bullets.

“Shit!” Steve’s voice came from the next aisle. He’d clearly recognized that their assailant had switched weapons. “Danny?” The question was loud, clear.

Danny looked at Kono, eyes questioning. She nodded; she was shocked, but fine.

“Danny?” This time the question was weak, looking for attention more than an answer.

He swung around to find Chin clutching his right arm. Blood was dripping between his fingers.

“Chin’s hit.” He grabbed a napkin that had fallen in the melee, took a look at the wound and was relieved that it wasn’t life threatening. There was a noise from the other direction. Max and Kamekona were belly crawling toward him (a sight he didn’t ever want to see again).

“We got this bro. You go get Steve.”

“What? Where d- What?”

Kono pulled Danny’s hand from Chin, replacing it with her own and keeping pressure while Max seemed to be dialing 911 on his cell.

“He went after the bad guy!” The large cook pointed as if Danny needed direction. “You were a cop, right? You’re his back up. We got this. Go.” Enormous hands shooed Danny along.

He started running, heard footfalls beyond the kitchen. He followed a trail of swinging doors and shocked civilians once they were out by the pool. Danny wasn’t sure what he was doing. How could he be Steve’s back up? He didn’t even have a gun! But he kept running.

“Close the gate!” Steve’s voice came from the other side of solid fence and to his left. Danny looked right and saw a man clearly confused, eyes wide, standing with a metal gate in his hand. Danny went right.

The civilian scrambled backward, trying to get out of the gunman and Danny’s way. The gate was left wide open. Danny slammed into a man with the rifle, took him out at the knees, then crashed into the gate. Head first.

He wouldn’t say that he lost consciousness, he was aware of what he thought was a minute or two of pain and disorientation, but when Danny was finally with it enough to recognize the situation hotel security was handcuffing the guy Danny had run into and Steve was waving fingers in front of Danny’s face asking for a count.

“Seventeen.” Danny huffed and grabbed hold of the two fingers too close to his nose. “Why do you carry a gun? You’re a cook!”

“Why don’t you? You were a cop.” Steve turned to an arriving policeman. “He’s with me, he’s okay, you can tell by the arguing.”

“Is the ambulance with Chin?” Danny ignored the jibe.

“Yeah,” Steve sighed, but stayed in Danny’s space to keep him from standing. “The photographer is dead.”

~*~

Danny had been cleared and they were in the emergency room waiting area when Chin came out in clean clothes, a bandaged arm, flirting with the doctor. When he saw Steve and Danny he smiled widely. “Howzit, brah?” The doctor shook her head and walked back through the swinging doors.

“The drugs are good?” Danny asked, smiling himself.

Chin nodded and gave a thumbs up.

Steve laughed.

“They said restricted duty.” Chin repeated to Danny with slightly less of a smile.

“We’re good.” Danny started to shuffle toward the door. “Steve’s going to loan us Charlie, who you know and like I’m told, and Kamekona’s cousin. God save us.”

Chin nodded again as Danny guided him into the car. “It’s teamwork, brah. We’re all ohana now.”

Steve smiled suspiciously as he started up Danny’s Camaro.

Chapter 6 – Meat

They had eight hours until the doors for the function room opened. Danny kept a shrewd eye on everyone in the kitchen. He didn’t hover, he hired professionals, they knew what they were doing. Well…he sighed and chose to trust that Steve’s control issues extended to what his half of the kitchen was putting out. What Danny couldn’t let go of was watching the doors that led in and out of the kitchen. Fearful that someone else would come in threatening his people, the _ohana_ that had formed around the charity event and the last week’s other events.

“Chef?” Danny looked up, smiled, then moved to take a look at what his prep cook was questioning. He preferred to be more of a guide than a tyrant. Which was another reason he was staying away from _Prow_ ’s people.

The door from the function room opened and Danny quickly stepped between the door and his employee. Steve walked in and shook his head, but grinned. He motioned Danny over to an unoccupied section of the kitchen.

“The shooter still isn’t talking.” Steve looked frustrated.

“After the pleasant conversation you had with him? That’s incredibly shocking. I am shocked.” Danny knew there were people who you played good cop/bad cop with, and then there were people that you left to military interrogation. A man with a military rifle in a kitchen wasn’t going to fall for good cop, but Danny had a feeling he wouldn’t give in with waterboarding either.

“He’s wanted in Miami. The prints match, so it does look like a hired hit.” Steve went right by Danny’s sarcasm. “And that makes Jamison’s murder look like less of a vendetta by an underling. Unless you know of someone who wants you dead?” Steve looked almost hopeful.

“Just my ex-wife, but she’s more of a do it yourself kind of angry.” Danny didn’t think that the attempted hit three days earlier had anything to do with anyone who had been in the kitchen at the time. He figured they’d stumbled across a loose end in Jamison’s office and they were being cleaned up. “They’ll be here tonight; my ex, Grace, and Step-Stan.” Danny’s fists clenched in worry more than anger.

“I thought Grace was your ex?”

“Grace is my daughter. Why would I name my restaurant after my ex-wife? Are you deranged?”

“You whine about her enough, I figured you weren’t over her. Maybe the name was a gesture to try and win her back.” Steve glared back at Danny, egging him on further. “It’s possible, you are a little sensitive after all.”

“I’m …. You…” Danny made a pained noise. “Go check on your pineapple.” He spun on his heels and went back to his graham cracker crusts.

~*~

Everything smelled wonderful. Everything that he’d sampled so far had been delicious. It left Danny in a generous enough mood to not throw out the case of Spam that Kamekona had snuck into the kitchen; he merely placed it in the back of _Prow_ ’s truck to be delivered to a homeless shelter at the end of the night with the rest of the left overs.

He was still worried, and he could see the worry on Steve’s face as he spoke to Governor Denning just beyond the flurry of activity. Neither of them looked pleased. Danny wasn’t thrilled and he checked his phone again in case he’d missed the text he’d been waiting for.

He re-pocketed his text-free phone just as the swinging door to the dining room opened.

“Danno!”

“Monkey!” Danny picked up the eight-year-old and hugged her tight when she reached him. He noticed his kitchen staff smiling, even Steve and the governor. His daughter was an amazing creature to have such an effect on people with just one word.

“Mommy and Stan said the hors d’oeuvres are delicious! I knew you’d do great!” She smiled widely and clung to her father.

“Actually that was Max who did the antipasto.” Danny pointed to the man and watched him smile at Grace. “Max, this is my daughter, Grace. Grace, this is Max.”

“It was exquisite!” She pinched her fingers together then made a kissing noise and spread them wide.

“Why, thank you. That’s nice of you to say.” Max seemed to blush until Kamekona nudged him.

“See? Keiki knows.”

Both men went back to their tasks, and Danny put Grace on her feet and walked her to meet Steve and the Governor.

Steve dropped to a knee and shook Grace’s hand once Denning had politely taken his leave. “It’s an honor finally meet you. You are even lovelier than your namesake.”

Grace blushed, and replied courteously but enthusiastically. Danny watched as Steve was enchanted.

“I’m going to need your dad’s undivided attention for a bit, okay?” At Grace’s nodd Steve called out. “Hey Charlie, would you take this lovely young lady out back to her mother?” Both men watched as she went into the dining room again. “It’s dangerous for her to be here. More so for her to have been in here with you.”

Danny recognized that his heart had clenched a little more in fear since she’d barreled into the kitchen. “I know.” He felt Steve’s hand clap onto his shoulder in an unspoken _We’ll keep her safe._

~*~

The text message read **_I found something. Digging more, will be in touch ASAP._** Danny looked up, and across the kitchen Steve met his eyes. He’d clearly heard Danny’s phone chime. They both moved to meet in the middle as the dinner plates started heading out to the tables.

Danny started without waiting for Steve to ask. “There was a number on the back of the boar slaw recipe. The same number was scribbled in her diet journal. I asked an old friend to check it out for us.” They’d had the conversation the day before, while they were finalizing the details for the food, and pouring over Jamison’s financials. It wasn’t that Danny thought he couldn’t trust HPD, he just didn’t know HPD, and didn’t like how quick Detective Kaleo jumped in with the sous chef’s arrest. And too, if the Governor had trusted HPD, Steve and Danny would never have been asked to help out.

Danny showed the text to Steve as the dining room doors swung open again.

“Gentlemen,” Denning called out in greeting with a plastered-on smile. He took care to stay out of the way and gestured the man with him to do the same. “This is a friend of Hawaii’s, Wo Fat. He was a close friend of Chef Jamison and asked for the opportunity to talk with you for a minute.”

“Mister McGarret, Mister Williams. Chef Jamison would have been very proud of what you’ve managed to do here. Everything looks superb.” He smiled in a way that didn’t quite make it to his eyes. “Pat would have been very proud of you Steve, I understand that she was a friend of your father’s.”

“She was.” Steve nodded. “I’ve never heard your name mentioned, though.”

Every cell in Steve’s body was making it clear that he instantly disliked the man. Danny was still bristling over being called Mister, while Jamison was referred to as chef. The man was winning no points at all. And he clearly meant to set both men on edge. So whatever Wo Fat was doing there, it wasn’t what it looked like.

“I only met your father a few times. I never had the opportunity to stop by his restaurant, though.”

“You should come by sometime. Call first and I’ll be sure to make you something special.”

Danny almost laughed at the antagonism he could hear in Steve’s words.

“Steve, Danny,” Denning interrupted. “We’ll let you get back to your very impressive work. I’ve heard nothing but compliments.” He all but pulled Wo Fat from the room.

“I don’t like him.” Steve said through gritted teeth.

“Really? It didn’t show.”

~*~

The next time Danny had a chance to look up, Steve was peering through the door that led to the dining room. Danny watched the man’s hands twitch as though he wanted to make fists, or reach for a gun.

He stepped closer and asked, “Do I want to know?”

“No.” Steve turned and blocked Danny’s view into the dining room. “You don’t want to know.”

“Okay, now I have to.” He pushed Steve out of the way and with a very quick glance took in Wo Fat chatting with his ex-wife and her husband. “Shit.” Danny moved back. “He saw you?”

“Yeah, it’s a threat.”

~*~

They were forced to mingle; both Steve and Danny were pulled out from the kitchen as dessert was being served - a dish that was a perfect blending of both of their sensibilities. They mingled, smiled and chatted while their respective staffs were right behind them cleaning, packing and joking as though they’d worked together for years. It was another blending that seemed to work.

Moving separately from table to table they schmoozed, accepting compliments, listening to suggestions, smiling politely and hoping that the night would end quickly.

Danny turned at a tap on his shoulder between tables.

“Daniel,” He felt his heart freeze at the look on his ex-wife’s face. “I can’t find Grace, did you tell her she could go help in the kitchen?”

“No, I...” Rachel’s face became more panicked and Danny’s phone chimed with another text message. He scanned it quickly, promised Rachel that he’d bring Grace home. “Go home, I’ll find her, Rachel. I swear.” He turned, gripping his cell tight. “Steve?” His voice was loud and on edge, then suddenly Steve was right there, taking the phone gently from Danny’s hand to read the address that had come from Grace’s phone.

~*~

“Drive! Just drive!”

Steve took a corner a little too tight. “Danny, it’s a...”

“I know exactly what it is! It’s a man threatening the well being of my daughter, because he thinks I know something about why or how he killed Pat Jamison.”

“She’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I promise you, she’ll be fine.”

Both men stayed quiet until they reached the remote address. They were armed, and as prepared as they were going to get. There was no more to say, a strange thing for their partnership.

There was one car at the base of the overlook. No visible backup for Wo Fat, which just meant the men were hidden and not absent.

Danny took a deep breath before he opened the door. “I’ll go straight up. You go around, find his men, and make your way up.” He watched as Steve internally argued the idea, then watched as he nodded that it was the best way. Danny could handle a gun, could talk to a suspect. Steve could take out a goon in the jungle. That’s the combination that Grace needed at the moment.

“Wait… I just…” Steve hesitated before he opened his door. It was quiet for another few seconds and then Steve surged into Danny’s personal space. The kiss was quick, moderately impersonal, but had promise. When Steve sat back he explained “I’ve been wanting to do that since that reporter showed me your picture right after you opened _Grace_.”

Danny nodded. “For me, it’s been since the diner.”

“Okay then.”

“Yeah.”

 

**Dessert**

  


Chapter 7 – Cordial

Danny walked up the path toward the clearing on the overlook; it would have been a beautiful sight if there weren’t a murderer standing there with his daughter. He held his hands away from his body, fingers spread wide, making it clear he had no gun in them.

Wo Fat had no visible weapon either, but the way Grace held herself so stiffly told Danny she’d seen at least a promise of violence.

“You didn’t come alone, chef, and I doubt you’re unarmed. Your partner is trying to clear both my men from the treeline?”

There was a small scuffle to Danny’s three o’clock, and he heard Steve call out “Four.”

Wo Fat didn’t look put off by the count.

“You took my daughter.” Danny didn’t care about the men beyond his sight. He had faith in Steve, his only care was the lunatic who thought kidnapping an eight year old girl could erase the record of his crimes. “Just let her go. Let her walk away, and I’ll let you walk away. I’m not a cop anymore, it’s an even trade.”

“I don’t think Mister McGarrett would agree with your bargain.” The criminal put his hand on Grace’s shoulder as though holding her in place.

“Grace, baby? Walk toward me. Just come to Danno.” He smiled at the beautiful little girl, hoping that she could see him well enough in the moonlight.

She took a step, and was pulled back. There were more noises from the brush at Danny’s five o’clock.

“I get it.” Danny explained, taking another step toward Wo Fat. “She stole from you. Jamison. You set her up, nice cushy job, nice cushy title. And then she stole from you.”

“She was the talk of the town without having to spend years learning her trade.” The man’s smile was creepy.

Danny watched as those fingers dug more into Grace’s shoulder. Watched his daughter fight to keep herself from crying. She had such faith in him, and he hoped he could pull through for her.

“Three restaurants, at least on paper. That’s some set up you had. Cash and charges coming into one location that looked like three to the banks. Very smart.” Danny could give him that much.

Moments after he and Steve had gotten into the car to head for Grace, Danny’d gotten the call he’d been waiting for. Pat Jamison had been laundering Yakuza money. Three different tax IDs under similar enough names that her customers wouldn’t question their legitimate charges. One physical location funneling enough money for three businesses. But Jamison had decided to take a little too much; syphoning into her own account in Singapore, thinking the Yakuza wouldn’t notice. Danny’s guy in New York had unraveled it all in a couple of days from just a single bank account number Jamison had left on a note card. She had been dishonorable among thieves; of course the Yakuza noticed, too.

“I’m sure I’m delighted you think so. Get your partner out here, chef. It would be unpleasant to issue the actual ultimatum in the child’s presence.”

Steve stepped out from the trees at Danny’s nine o’clock, leaving little doubt that he’d cleared however many men Wo Fat had placed in hiding. He spent a minute divesting himself of several guns and knives on the ground behind Danny.

“I’ll go along with Danny. You let Grace walk over to us now, and you walk, too. We’ll give you twelve hours to get off the island. It’s that easy.”

“And if I don’t believe you?” The fingers dug further into Grace’s shoulder.

“Why would you have brought her here? Why would you have dragged us out? This is the only bargain there is.” Danny stepped forward once more.

Wo Fat stepped back, taking Grace with him. “No. No, it isn’t. I need a source here on the island to keep the money flowing. You’ll both do that for me.” There was no question in the words.

“No, we…” Steve started to speak.

Danny cut him off. Stepping in front of Steve, arms wide. “If that’s what it takes, then that’s what we’ll do. Just let my daughter go.”

“I don’t trust you, chef. I have the distinct feeling that you’d say anything that I want to hear to get her back.”

“You’re right.” Danny moved forward a half a step more, arms still out, moving, distracting. His eyes caught his daughter’s, and they didn’t move away again. “Anything you want. You want me to jump, I’ll ask how high. You want me to drop, I’ll drop like a stone.”

“You’re desperate. That’s good. But I’ll keep her for a few days until we have the details worked out. If you don’t…”

“Now!” Steve called out the word and he leveled the gun he’d taken from Danny’s back when Danny had stepped in front of him. Danny lurched forward and dropped. Grace fell as though she were boneless, then rolled toward her father.

A single shot rang out. Wo Fat stumbled backward, clutching at his chest. Steve held the gun still, waiting, sure that the five men in the darkness were still unconscious, waiting to see if Wo Fat drew the gun Steve knew he had to have on him. He waited until the man stumbled into that small section of the clearing with no brush or trees, the beautiful vista with a sheer fall to the ocean. Watched as Wo Fat went over.

~*~

Grace clung to her father. HPD moved around them, taking the thugs into custody and sending boats to look for the body at the bottom of the cliff. Rachel and Stan came running up the steps from the parking area, all tears and flailing arms.

Steve felt bereft that he wasn’t in on the emotional outpouring. He smiled widely, though, overhearing Danny tell Grace how proud he was, how impressed he’d been that she’d fallen exactly like she should have, how much he loved his brave, smart, beautiful monkey.

HPD cleared them all to go home, advising them all that there would be more questions at a later time. Steve was turning to leave, presuming he’d wait for Danny at the car, when he found his arms suddenly full of an English brunette.

“I can’t thank you enough. I just don’t…” She trailed off and just held on as if for dear life.

Steve patted at her back. “Anyone would have done what I did. I’m just glad I was here.” He pulled Rachel away just a bit, looked in her face. “If there is anything else I can do… If she can’t sleep, or…”

Rachel smiled, “I’ll let Daniel know if anything happens, and… I’m sure he’ll let you know.” She patted at him again and stepped back. “I’m very glad he’s found you, Steven.” And she was off, her husband and daughter in hand.

Danny moved toward Steve as he watched them leave. “Thank you. I can’t say it enough.”

“That’s what your ex just said.”

“She’s right, babe. Grace is … everything.” Both men began moving and were almost at the car when Danny spoke again. “I didn’t know if she’d understand to drop the way she did, but I did know, beyond a doubt, that you wouldn’t hit her. I don’t know how I knew, but I never doubted…”

Steve leaned in and kissed him.

Chapter 8 – Confection

Danny watched. He watched Steve’s hands go white-knuckled around the slats on the headboard. He watched Steve’s back flex, sweat condensing and tracing across his tattoos. He watched his own cock invade Steve’s body, over and over, again and again, slam after slam.

Danny’s hand slid from Steve’s hip, up the damp back and into his hair. He pulled lightly and loved how Steve’s back and neck arched again at the tension and tug.

“Yes. Danny…. more. More.”

And Danny gave it. Slamming harder. Pulling tighter. Reaching around to touch even more of Steve.

Steve’s head dropped forward, between his arms. Taut, muscled arms that dug in and pushed Steve’s body back at Danny. All muscle, sweat and ink and…

“Fuuuuuck. Steve… So… Babe.” Danny was close, so fucking close. But he wanted Steve to come first. Desperately wanted to feel what it was like to have the man let go with Danny buried inside him. “Come on…” Danny’s hand roughly stroked Steve’s cock. “Need you to…”

“Danny….” Steve grunted, shoved back.

“Please… Babe…” The hand that wasn’t jacking Steve off dug sharply into his hip. “Need you…”

Danny pushed, stroked, stuttered out any coherent words he could, suddenly so very glad that the idiot cook had come charging into his kitchen only a week before. Overwhelmed to have found a partner in Steve. Happy, just happy.

“Come for me, Babe….” Danny panted against Steve’s back. “For me.”

And Steve did. Head sunk down, back arched, body shaking and grinding at Danny.

“So good…” Danny whispered, his body jerking forward of its own volition until his vision whited out.

~*~

“You know,” Steve said,a smirk on his face that Danny needed to wipe off _almost_ as much as he needed to sleep wrapped around Steve like a barnacle. “You really aren’t bad for a haole.”

“I will get you for that.” Danny murmured into Steve’s shoulder.

“What are you gonna do? Put red sauce on my pasta?”

“You are a blasphemer.”

Steve chuckled and pulled the sheet up over them. He took a deep breath and pulled Danny in a little tighter. Then he asked the question that had been nagging at him for a week. “Why’d you take the job?”

Danny was quiet for a minute, and Steve thought he might have fallen asleep when he finally answered. “It’s my place to make sure this island is a better place for Grace in every capacity I can.”

“In every capacity.” Steve liked the phrase. It spoke volumes about the man next to him.

Danny went on as though it had been a question. “Making great food, finding murderers, keeping you in bed so you can’t commit atrocities against unwitting foods.”

“You love my cooking.”

“I find your delusional … ness attractive.”

“Delusionalness? That’s not even a word.”

“Says you.”

“Says me.”

Danny smiled, held on, and was held that much tighter back as the argument went on into the night.


End file.
